The First Time
by Malty
Summary: Immediately post Exit Wounds, Jack, Ianto and Gwen are left to soak in what's happened. A look at their reactions, try it out. Slight Jack/Ianto.


**A/N;** Thanks for checking in! I did it again, wrote a fic without seeing the episode. I don't know why that keeps happening. I know the basics of what happened in Exit Wounds and from that knowledge this fic sprung; it was part of a smaller series but took on something of a life of its own.

**Disclaimer;** Other than, (occasionally), watching Torchwood I have no affiliation with it whatsover, and if I made a profit from this I would use it to buy the DVDs and actually watch the damn thing. But I don't so I can't.

**Summary; **It wasn't a dream.

* * *

He could have been asleep for 20 minutes or 18 hours, but he wasn't even sure he was awake. He knew it was dark, and a dream, something had happened.. There was no ambiguity in this case; it had been bad, that he knew. Thank God it was only a dream, he'd really believed what he was feeling for a second there, it had seemed so real and final. And if there was a dream then he must have been asleep.. And there was ringing.

He had no idea where, (or what), his phone was, but somehow his hand managed to find it and put it to his ear before he could even register what he'd heard.

'Hello?'

'Hi, Ianto.' It was Gwen, and she sounded about as lost as him. No wonder in the wake of that dream..

He sat up.

Oh dear God. Oh God.

'Gwen.' His voice was so much heavier than he remembered it. He remembered.

'I didn't wake you did I?' She sounded terrified that he'd say yes. She didn't want him to hang up.

'Um, no that's alright.' He scrubbed his face with his free hand. 'I don't even know what time it is.'

'About half-ten.'

'Oh right.'

Neither of them actually cared about the time, they just had to keep talking to each other.

Gwen muffled the handset and seemed to be shooing someone off. Ianto looked around, thoroughly unsettled now that he found himself awake. He was in his bedroom, but it felt so altered he could have still been dreaming; He was half-tangled in the sheets to the extent that he realised he must have fallen asleep on them rather than in them. By the looks of it, it hadn't been an easy sleep. He went to scratch his side but was obstructed by too much material – he was still dressed in his suit. As his eyes adjusted in the dark he saw his curtains were wide open to the night, and his bedroom door ajar so he could see the hallway. That disturbed him the most.

'Sorry love that was Rhys. He doesn't think I should be on the phone.'

'What time is it again?'

'10.30pm'

He couldn't form sentences as he tried to process numbers.

'Rhys says I got in around 5am', she sounded sympathetic as she correctly guessed the source of his confusion. 'We've been asleep since yesterday.'

'No way.' That was a very uncharacteristic expression coming from Ianto, but he was too far-gone to communicate using anything other than the most basic words. 'I.. I don't even remember coming home', he admitted, feeling the need to be completely honest. He understood she needed to speak to someone else who'd been there, someone who was where she was right now. He was suddenly ludicrously overwhelmed to have her disembodied voice for company; he knew what it was like to wake-up for the first time after something terrible alone.

Gwen paused awkwardly. 'Is Jack with you?'

'I honestly don't know.' He looked around in the dark and his eyes settled on the vague shape of the open doorway; he thought he could hear running water.

'He's not answering his phone.'

He tried to sound reassuring. 'I'm sure he's fine, Gwen. He probably just needs time.'

'Fine?' She was gritting her teeth, he could hear it. She was about to start crying. 'How can he be fine? He-'

'Gwen', he said softly, as if between them they could stave off what was happening if they just held it together. But it was too late, her words were swallowed by sobs, he could actually feel her doubling over, phone in hand. He imagined she was in bed too. 'Gwen-', he tried to pull her back, feeling totally helpless. He heard Rhys try to take the phone but she fought him, voice cracking.

'Ianto,' she didn't know what she was calling for.

He'd scrunched his hand in his hair and closed his eyes, heart absolutely breaking for her. 'Cariad,' he whispered hoarsely. 'Go with Rhys. Call if you need me.'

She dissolved into tears and he heard Rhys whispering to her before the phone cut off. He knew Rhys was holding her, and wished he could be there to do the same.

He held the phone to his ear for a few minutes afterwards, unable to move except to turn his head and stare at the doorway. He definitely heard water.

Could have easily turned it on last night and then forgotten.

_Tosh._

How did I get home last night?

_Owen._

Did I go straight to sleep? I'm still wearing my shoes..

_Tosh. Owen._

They were dead.

He felt sick. They were really dead, it had really happened.

_Where's Jack?_

He shot up from the bed, unsteady on his feet but moving quickly into the bathroom where he made it just in time to throw up violently. He was shaking, all his strength completely drained. He'd never felt so weak and terrified and utterly exposed.

They were dead.

He hauled himself backwards so he was sat with his knees to his chest leaning against the sink, arms wrapped around himself. He couldn't even think anymore, he was just reacting; raw and yet numb at the same time.

The only sounds were his shuddering breaths and the running water.

Why was water running?

He looked to his side.

Jack was sitting in the shower.

It was as if he'd appeared out of nowhere. Slowly, painfully, Ianto pulled himself to his feet, keeping his eyes on Jack lest he disappear. He was sat with his knees to his chest, staring forwards eerily. The partially frosted glass made it seem he might fade away if you moved too far. Still breathing deeply, hypnotised, Ianto opened the shower door and walked in, standing before him.

'Jack?' He was fully clothed, looking blankly ahead. No reaction.

Ianto crouched carefully in front of him, blinking furiously against the warm water obscuring his vision. He tried to make eye contact, but he wasn't even sure if Jack could see him. Still no reaction.

Wordlessly he moved to the wall by Jack's side and awkwardly slid down until he was sitting next to him, in the same position he'd been a minute ago only now in similar company.

He was already soaking wet, sodden down by his heavy work clothes. He was still wearing his shoes.

He sat with Jack, side by side as they stared into the running water.

He didn't know that he would ever get up again.

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**A/N;** Big thanks for reading, I hope it wasn't too angsty, (or not enough given the subject matter. I strive for balance-angst; Balangst if you will). I live for feedback so would love to hear from you. I know we've seen Jack react very emotionally to death before, but I figured losing two of his team would be enough to make anyone just shut down, even if only for a few moments.


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